


REFORM

by neichan



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series, Star Trek: The Original Series
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-11-02
Updated: 2005-11-02
Packaged: 2019-02-05 16:28:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,433
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12798177
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/neichan/pseuds/neichan
Summary: The Vulcans have split from the Federation. Most have chosen to go back to the Ancient Way of life, when Vulcan and Romulan were one race.





	1. Part 1

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Haven, the archivist: This story was originally archived at [Fandom Haven Story Archive (FHSA)](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Fandom_Haven_Story_Archive), was scheduled to shut down at the end of 2016. To preserve the archive, I began working with the OTW to transfer the stories to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in November 2017. If you are this creator and the work hasn't transferred to your AO3 account, please contact me using the e-mail address on [Fandom Haven Story Archive collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/fhsa/profile).

Warnings: Difficult subjects. Non-con. Slavefic. Mpreg. Very AU. These aren't the Vulcans you are used to.

 

"James Tiberius, my father has already told you why you can not stay on Vulcan 3. His advice should not be taken lightly." Spock told the young Terran man standing next to him.

 

The Vulcan, only a few years older than himself, was taller than Kirk remembered, bigger, more intimidating, honestly Kirk thought Spock must have put on a good fifty pounds more of pure muscle and ten inches in height. He was just more...everything.

 

They used to be almost the same height. No longer. Spock was at least a head taller now. And his shoulders were broader and more layered in muscle than his formerly thin frame had ever promised. Kirk had to fight not to stare at his friend. Spock was no longer a skinny lad, that was for sure.

 

Then there were the personality changes. Spock had been reserved, painfully distant and correct, barely approachable to any but those closest to him, certainly no casual observer would have dared to try to engage him in conversation when he had lived on Terra 1.

 

Now Spock was very different, oh, he was still serious and yet he was far more animated than he had been. Emotions flickered in his black eyes. And he had smiled, really smiled with the eye-crinkling reality of a true grin and then reached out and hugged Kirk. That was a big surprise. A very welcome one. Kirk had received exactly two from his friend prior to this trip. Two in all the years they had known each other. Each one was precious to him.

 

Together the Vulcan and the Terran looked out over the lush gardens surrounding the vast Sarek Compound, Spock's family estate. Spock leaned forward, bracing his thickly corded forearms on the heavy black railing, letting the warm mist dew his skin. More dew settled on his very black hair, like thousands of tiny diamonds. He shook his head, at Kirk's perennial stubbornness. It was in Jim's best interest to leave Vulcan 3 quickly. But Jim seemed determined to remain, defiant. Just as Spock remembered him, determined to succeed against all odds.

 

Kirk was astounded by the lush greenery surrounding the Compound. On the original planet of Vulcan all the landscape was desert, a harsh, blazingly hot redness of sand and dust, vast mountain ranges, impossibly steep and un-welcoming crags and valleys, plagued by storms of enough wind-force to abrade the flesh from unprotected travelers down to the bone.

 

There were places on the original planet of Vulcan that had no measurable rainfall for a thousand years. So the last thing Kirk had expected was this moist, tropical paradise when he arrived on Vulcan 3. Rain was falling steadily when he arrived at the spaceport, and now the rain was turned to mist, sunlight steaming through with rays of golden yellow brilliance, evaporating the recently fallen rain.

 

Vulcan 3 was a very different planet from the first Vulcan, the homeworld. Here, it was green, tropical, hot like Vulcan, but wet, it's thickened air hard to breathe for all but the now evolved native Vulcan population.

 

It was the planetary home of his childhood friend Spock, half-human son of the all powerful Sarek, former Ambassador and now ruler of Vulcan 3.

 

Spock had never set foot on the Vulcan homeworld. He was not pure Vulcan, and not even the exalted position of his father, Ambassador Sarek, could garner him an invitation before Sarek became ruler of Vulcan 3. After that it was too late for the powers that ruled Vulcan to make amends.

 

Sarek's final response to the snub of his beloved son, coupled with the rest of the escalating lack of control in the Federation, was to embrace the Ancient Ways, retiring to Vulcan 3 after resigning his position as Vulcan Ambassador to Starfleet and the Federation.

 

Sarek now held only one title, Saer of Vulcan 3. Ultimate lord and emperor to the people of the world he'd been born on one hundred and thirty years ago.

 

The childhood connection between Spock and himself was the reason Kirk had been ordered to travel to Vulcan 3. His personal friendship had gained him access to the planet where other more powerful Starfleet personnel and Federation representatives had been denied entrance, turned away at the spaceport, politely but firmly advised they were not welcome no matter what position of authority they held.

 

Now Kirk was here actually on the planet surface, and Starfleet expected him, a lowly and fairly new officer of twenty two years, with only three years of deep space experience, to negotiate with far more politically experienced Vulcans. To successfully negotiate with an Ambassador who was widely recognized for his diplomatic brilliance and cunning.

 

Starfleet wanted the planet Vulcan 3 to re-open to alien races. It wasn't enough to trade with Vulcan 3, they wanted to have embassies and businesses planet-side, a Starfleet presence.

 

They wanted a Starfleet outpost, and the Vulcan military academies, with their superior and widely emulated training, open to all Federation races. Kirk was beginning to entertain a niggling doubt any of those things would happen. Sarek had not seemed inclined to listen to any proposals, deftly turning aside any suggestion of talk, and openly admitting he would not re-open the planet in any circumstance.

 

Vulcan 3 had closed to all alien races one standard year ago. All the Vulcan planets but the original Vulcan had done so, sixteen M-class worlds closed to any but Vulcans on the planet's surface.

 

Of all the those worlds, Vulcan 3 was the most important, most valuable to Starfleet. It was strategically placed as a jump point to many of the gamma quadrant worlds. Sarek was also the greatest strategic mind in all of the Vulcan archipelago, rivaled only by the growing reputation of his son, Spock.

 

So, all Federation resources were concentrated on re-negotiating an alliance with Vulcan 3 and winning any possible concessions. Win a foothold on Vulcan 3 first, get them to re-open, then move on to the other closed worlds, was the political wisdom being employed. Where Sarek led others would follow.

 

For more than seventeen months Starfleet had begged, promised and wheedled for more Vulcan participation in the Federation, all for naught when the Hollo-myns had launched an offensive against a colony of Vulcans on V-16 over some perceived slight.

 

Two million Vulcan settlers had died. Nearly one third of the planet's population. The Federation had not been willing to immediately condemn the act and eject the Hollo-myn from it's membership.

 

Vulcan withdrew from the Federation that day. It was the last straw for Ambassador Sarek. A race that had murdered his people, permitted to remain in the alliance of worlds that made up the Federation. Sarek made his displeasure further known in a most practical way. He went to war. And he knew, and the Federation knew, he could not be stopped.

 

On that day V 2-17 abruptly had had enough of the political pussyfooting and closed to all non-Vulcan races. It was the only way to protect Vulcans, Lord Sarek said, when he was asked.

 

Messages flew. Two Hollo-myn home-worlds were decimated by Vulcan warships. The attacks took less than sixty hours. The Federation was stunned. No other race was capable of that kind of speed, not even the famous Starfleet.

 

There were no protests lodged, there were not enough Hollo-myns left scattered on the Federation worlds. Those that lived kept silent, and hoped to escape any notice. Their close allies did not dare to say a word.

 

Sarek retired back to Vulcan 3. And the many overtures of friendship and solicitations of diplomatic ties began, albeit cautiously. None of the supplicants and Ambassadors were allowed to the planet's surface. All were spoken with on the space platform, some alliances were agreed upon, and treaties signed. None were invited to the surface of Vulcan 3. Sarek refused to re-open his planet.

 

Vulcan 2,3,6,8,13,and 16 declared they were fully adopting and reverting to the Ancient Culture of their distant ancestors. Lord Sarek spoke for ten hours telling the interested worlds what the Ancient Culture was.

 

Billions, Vulcan and non-Vulcan were glued to their comms as they listened and watched the elegant leader of Vulcan 3 speaking knowledgeably on the subject. The Starfleet Academy made the speech required learning for all cadets.

 

As the details unfolded, Starfleet drew a collective breath of horror. The Ancient Culture was a warrior based culture. A hierarchical culture, complete with lords, and slaves, and all the levels of citizenry in-between. It reached back to the deep past of Vulcan, when the Romulan race had diverged from the Vulcan one. The Romulans had retained their warrior culture, the Vulcans had not. The Vulcans were hundreds of times more powerful than the Romulans. They would be the reigning military force in the Federated Worlds. They already were in point of fact. That had just been demonstrated.

 

That had happened, the announcement, exactly one year ago yesterday, but the move to adopt the Ancient Ways had been going on far longer more than a decade.

 

Lt. James T. Kirk arrived on Vulcan 3 during the anniversary festival of the intergalactic announcement.

 

Bright colors and loud celebrations had enveloped him. Not lawless rampaging, no the Vulcans were a law-abiding people, but a full, exuberant, joyous celebration.

 

He had been granted the right to beam down to the Sarek Compound under Vulcan supervision. The instructions he'd been given by his Starfleet superiors still ringing in his ears. Do not leave Vulcan until the mission was a success, not until Vulcan 3 agreed to open again. Sacrifice anything to achieve the goal. The Federation depended on it. Kirk was not sure if that statement was an exaggeration or not. It was painfully clear that he was not welcome back, unless he succeeded.

 

He'd been met in the transporter room of the Sarek Compound by two huge warrior males. Shock had silenced him when he saw their clothing, and their massive size.

 

Vulcans had always been tall, but before now, he had never seen one who was not reed thin. Gone also were the somber robes of dark colors that Kirk was familiar with. In their place the men wore crimson j'tel, a lightweight armor, and carried both high tech and edged weapons.

 

The j'tel armor was highly sought after, one of the most successful and desired exports of Vulcan 3, it fit the body, outlined it, and could protect a man from a direct phaser blast. Yet, it was cool and weighed almost nothing. Kirk had never seen it in the color the Vulcans in front of him were wearing. It stood out like flames, the heat echoed by the look in their eyes as they watched him. Not the dispassionate eyes of the Vulcans he'd known before. Measuring, weighing, wanting eyes. As if he were a desirable possession.

 

Of course, after he noticed the clothing the men wore, Kirk noticed other things and began to ask himself questions. Many things were changed. The most obvious difference was the size of these Vulcans.

 

Typically Vulcans were of common Terran humanoid height and slightly underweight. But the two who glowered at him were taller than the previous norm, almost seven feet tall, and bulky with hard, lean muscle, a lot of it. Not slender and slight, not the graceful but thin Vulcans Kirk remembered.

 

The expressions on their faces, well...they had expressions. Anger, suspicion, wariness, and a hard, very clear threat. Lieutenant James Tiberius Kirk was instantly on his guard. Something was very, very wrong here. Well, maybe not wrong, but different at the least. He was not in the arena he had expected to be in.

 

He had never seen a Vulcan wearing any kind of adornment. But the two who were escorting him, clearly soldiers or bodyguards of some kind, were wearing earrings, fine, filigree decorations of exquisite workmanship. And if Kirk was not mistaken they were also wearing eye paint. It made their eyes even more exotic, slanting, almond shaped and mysterious.

 

They'd seized him and his luggage, stripped him without asking him, he supposed he should have been grateful they waited until they were in a private room to undress him, searched him, afterwards re-dressed him in a light weight, sarong-like skirt that while it covered him, was too sheer and delicate to provide true modesty.

 

With every step he took the silky fabric of the slim profiled wrap conformed to the contours of his body. They gave him no shoes for his feet. He moved barefoot over the soft ground, the skirt floating around his hips and legs.

 

Only then did they take him to Sarek. Not to Spock. To Spock's father. The severe, formal man who had watched him with emotionless, empty eyes when he'd visited the Ambassador's residence on Terra 1, when he and Spock had been children and friends despite the six year difference in their ages.

 

Sarek gestured for Kirk to sit, while he remained standing, leaning back comfortably against his ornately carved, red carnelian desk.

 

His face was no longer emotionless, or severe. His dark, distinctly Asian eyes, emphasized by a black line of kohl, blazed with heat. Intellect. Anger. Curiosity. Authority radiated off of him.

 

The two guards stayed close to Kirk, standing beside and slightly behind the chair Kirk was given. The narrowness of the skirt meant Kirk had to sit carefully, knees together, or he would show all his assets, he certainly had not been offered his underclothing when he'd been re-clothed. He sat on the low chair, feet tucked to one side, knees tightly together. It was almost...feminine, having to sit with his knees canted just so, in order not to have the sarong gape open.

 

The chair was strange, more of a stool, cushioned in rich, deep red and gold embroidered fabric. It was lower to the ground than the chair Sarek had risen from. The chair Kirk sat in had a single curved stalk for a back support, nothing to rest his arms on, Kirk put his hands on his thighs.

 

It was beautiful, the chair, but it made Kirk self-conscious to sit on it. As if he was on display. Yes, the chair was like a pedestal for all it's low height, a platform to display a piece of art, a sculpture. Any one in the room would be able to look down on him, admire him. Kirk was suddenly very sure that was the purpose of the chair, to display whomever sat in it. It also meant he'd be slow getting up with his legs in such a position.

 

Sarek came to stand in front of him, and Kirk had to look upwards to meet his eyes. He itched to stand. But, protocol demanded once he accepted a chair, he stay seated unless Sarek asked him if he wished to rise. So Kirk stayed put, his skin quivering with disease, his head tilted up to meet Sarek's gaze.

 

Sarek pulled over a taller chair, also well cushioned, but utilitarian more than artistic. A chair with arms and a sturdy back. Sarek sat next to him. No, this was not the same Sarek he'd remembered on Terra 1. The Lord of Vulcan 3 was also dressed in a sarong, but he wore a short sleeved shirt as well, loose and cool looking, showing off the top of his powerful, smooth skinned chest. And his sarong was not filmy or sheer.

 

Sarek spoke quietly, his eyes taking in all of Kirk, the sarong, his bare feet, his bare chest, and only then, his face. Kirk saw appreciation and approval in those dark orbs.

 

"Friend of my son Spock, James Tiberius Kirk, welcome to my home. Are you still with the Federation and Starfleet?"

 

"Yes, Saer Sarek." The title meant "Lord". It was how Sarek, ruler of the planet, was addressed. There was only one Lord on Vulcan 3. Sarek was Vulcan 3's equivalent of an Emperor. "I am with Starfleet, and with the Federation."

 

"You are here, on Vulcan 3 on their behalf? Because of your friendship with my son?" Sarek asked. Settling back in his chair. His eyes continuing to roam over Kirk. The gaze was no longer censorious as he'd remembered from childhood, it was now distinctly proprietary.

 

"Yes, Saer. I do want to see Spock, he is my friend, I have missed him since I saw him last, but it is at the order of Starfleet I came here. It was hoped that my friendship with Spock would allow me a chance to speak with you that others have not been afforded." Kirk replied, conscious of being, for all intents and purposes, virtually naked in front of his friend's father.

 

And equally aware that Sarek was looking him over with a kind of interest that made him distinctly nervous. Not precisely uneasy, but certainly jumpy. Kirk was suddenly aware he could catch the scent of the man, a musky, rich scent, drawing, pleasant and impossible to ignore. Cinnamon-y. He struggled to keep his own eyes from wandering over Sarek's impressively large frame. Not sure how he felt about being so aware of Sarek's body.

 

"It is good that you do not lie to me. Please address Spock as ta-Saer in front of others, he is one of my heirs. Now I will speak plainly to you, as you are friend to my son. You can not remain here, James Tiberius. I will not allow any representatives of the Federation or Starfleet on Vulcan 3, they have betrayed the Vulcan people. You know of the incidents I refer to, and there are others which you are not aware of. I reject the Federation's offers of alliance. They have not seen fit to offer apology for the lives lost, so that is moot. They have proven unreliable and even treacherous. The only aliens on Vulcan 3 will be those who are owned by Vulcan Masters. I do not want to have you here as a slave, James Tiberius. I remember you fondly." Sarek fastened his eyes on Kirk's. His gaze hot and unwavering.

 

Kirk swallowed hard.


	2. Part 2

"The Ancient Culture allows for slavery, Saer? That was one of the strongest tenets in the Surak reforms, that slavery cheapened all life and was a forbidden path of life. Vulcans had always spoken out for freedom." Kirk said. Watching Sarek as the older man watched him. There was a tension in the air, not a threat but an energy that Kirk could not define.

 

"Yes, for freedom and order. Obey the laws. Sacrifice the good of the one for the good of the many. The Ancient Culture is different, James Tiberius. It argues for a hierarchy of rule, strongly, a different kind of order. Including slavery. And we of Vulcan 3 have chosen to follow the those tenets, not the ones of Surak's reforms. The Surak reforms made us fear and reject who we are, and were as a culture and a people. Those times are over now. This is not a place for you to be, James Tiberius, I will see you are returned to your starship safely. I don't want my son, or you, to be hurt by what may happen if you stay." Sarek stared at Kirk for a moment. Such a fresh beauty, the Terran's golden coloring had always held appeal. So different from the dark hair and pale skin of Vulcan.

 

Kirk almost leapt to his feet, unable to suppress his agitation at his mission's failure and, he had to admit, at the feelings of disquiet the changed Sarek was stirring in him. He had an overwhelming urge to pace. By sheer force of will Kirk managed to remain in his seat. He spoke rapidly to forestall Sarek summoning transport for him back to the Enterprise.

 

"No. Please, Saer Sarek. I must stay. There is no way I can leave so quickly. I....Please, may I see ta-Saer Spock?" Kirk met Sarek's gaze. The deep-set eyes were thoughtful, and wary. Kirk held his breath waiting for the refusal, waiting to be sent back to his ship in disgrace. Less than half a day, and sent packing like a small child.

 

Sarek considered him for a moment, long fingers stroking his own chin, then moving to stroke one of the long, shimmering earrings that dangled from his ears. His dark eyes were measuring as they travelled over Kirk. Then he nodded, his face softening.

 

"You may see Spock." The Vulcan Lord agreed, making a gesture. Less than a minute later a tall, familiar form entered the room.

 

The first thing that struck Kirk was how tall Spock was, and how he had broadened and thickened his body. James was no longer of a same size with his Vulcan friend. Spock smiled and came directly to him, arms held open. He bowed his head towards his father as he walked, and Sarek also smiled. Kirk was half stunned, he'd never seen Spock and his father so at ease together, so warm. Then Spock lifted Kirk out of his chair and hugged him.

 

It was the last thing Kirk expected. He dangled in the taller man's hold, toes just brushing the floor, gripping Spock's wide shoulders and upper arms in a futile bid for equilibrium, and for balance.

 

Spock's arms wrapped around him at his back and under his hips, lifting him free of the floor, cradling him against a body he didn't recognize, so muscular that Kirk felt the ridges through both of their clothing. Kirk was speechless. Then Spock laughed and Kirk found his flustered tongue was freed to stutter a response.

 

"T..T..Ta-Saer Spock, you've grown!" The first thing on his mind came out of his mouth, and James blushed hotly at the uncensored outburst.

 

Spock laughed again, a joyous sound, squeezing Kirk tightly once more. And Kirk had to close his eyes for a second, as the wonderful scent of strong, young, Vulcan male assailed him again. Spicy, warm,...cinnamon, this time he was sure of it.

 

"And you have not, James Tiberius. It is good to see you." Spock answered, settling Kirk's feet back on the floor.

 

He pulled over one of the larger chairs up next to his father's, and gestured for Kirk to retake his previous seat. Puzzled not to be offered a chair similar to the ones Spock and Sarek were sitting in, and thinking it had to be significant, Kirk sat, rearranging himself with as much care as required to remain reasonably modest in the thin garment.

 

Spock and Sarek both watched him with more than friendly interest. Kirk pretended not to notice. Spock was wearing loose pants that ended halfway down his calves, and nothing else in the way of clothing. Elaborate earrings pierced his ears, kohl darkened his eyes. This, it was all too bizarre.

 

"I have told James Tiberius he must leave the planet, and he has told me he may not. That he must stay." Sarek commented to his son. And father and son exchanged a long, silent stare.

 

Finally Spock nodded and turned back to face Kirk. His smile had faded, but his eyes were friendly and warm. Spock was pleased to see him, Kirk was sure of it.

 

Spock's concerned, dark eyes fixed on his friend. Kirk thought that Spock look healthy, vibrantly so, no longer giving the impression of pale frailty despite his remarkable Vulcan strength. "Jim, you must leave. There is no place for you here. We have gone back to the Ancient Ways. You will find no welcome in the Ways, they are meant for Vulcan prosperity, not for the prosperity of others. You are too independent to find a good life here. I don't remember you being amenable to slavery in the least."

 

"Your father has said there will be slaves again." Kirk blurted out. "But I can't believe it of you, Spock. I remember speaking of Surak's reforms with you..." Kirk began. Spock shook his head, holding up one hand.

 

"We have rejected the reforms of Surak. We will no longer diminish ourselves in that way. The Ancient Ways now govern us on Vulcan 3. The society of today permits slavery, it is part of an established hierarchy, and a framework for true Vulcan society, permitting Vulcans to accept what and who we are instead of rejecting a large part of what we are, what we were. Surak demanded all Vulcans suppress our natural emotion, our passion. Reject our history. We have decided not to do so any more. We will not deny who we are, we will remember who we were. We recognize and honor our past." Spock told him quietly, as Sarek inclined his head in agreement. "The reforms of Surak no longer apply to us. They are not in the best interest of Vulcan 3."

 

"There are many reasons for rejecting Surak's reforms, James Tiberius. But there is not time to sit and speak of them all. It would be the study of a life to understand." Sarek said. He waved a hand towards Spock. "Take him on a tour if you would. I have things I must get done. Take your time. I will see you on your return."

 

Spock stood, he reached out his hand, Kirk stared at him wide-eyed, was he supposed to take Spock's hand? "Come, James Tiberius, let us walk in the gardens of my father's home. You have never seen it and it is beautiful. We will talk as we go." Kirk swallowed and let Spock raise him to his feet. Spock retained Kirk's hand for several minutes as they walked. And when Spock let his hand go it was easy and natural. Spock's hand was then placed gently on Kirk's back, guiding him.

 

And here they were, with the two guards behind them, quiet, but not forgotten. Spock turned to Kirk. A wind laden with heavy mist blew in from the trees plastering the cloth of Kirk's sarong to his body in a matter of minutes. He tried to pull the fabric away from his skin, but it re-conformed to his naked body no matter how many times he tried to pull it away. Spock watched his struggle. Spock's gaze was too intent, too interested, Kirk couldn't meet those burning eyes. It was almost as if the Vulcan was in a state of pre-Ponn Farr. Kirk had seen vids of a true Ponn Farr frenzy, and knew his friend was not so far gone as that. But there was something....

 

"Leave it." Spock said, watching Kirk struggle with the cloth. "It is supposed to do exactly what it is doing. To show off the pleasing shape of a slave's body. Jim....You can not stay here. This is all that you have to look forward to, to be an object of beauty, admired, desired, used and owned. Slaves are treated well here, but even so it is not a life I would have you choose. With the Federation, off of Vulcan 3, you will have your freedom, a career. There is no freedom on Vulcan 3 for you. Only bondage, and service."

 

"I have been told quite clearly I can not return if my mission is not a success first. I am obligated to try harder than this to change your father's mind, Spock. I can't give up so easily." Kirk told the man beside him. Turning to present only his profile to the other man, not a full frontal view. Not knowing how much Spock appreciated the change in scenery, the swell of Kirk's chest, his taut nipples the dew sliding down his bare skin, and the delectable curve that was his buttock. And the cloth stuck wetly to Kirk's genitals, hiding very little. Spock noted with wry amusement the guards posted behind them also were enjoying Kirk's unknowing display of his body. Having Kirk on Vulcan was a dangerous thing, far too tempting. He would be sought after, bargained for.

 

"They sent you here to play on my friendship with you. Sarek knew it would happen. But even our friendship won't protect you. The law is that only aliens who are slaves may reside on Vulcan 3. Sarek has agreed to this law, the council has confirmed it. He will uphold it. I uphold it, even where it applies to friends, Jim. You can not stay here as my friend. I must be true to my convictions and to the laws of my people." Spock told his friend patiently. Kirk was beautiful, in all respects, more so like this, with his unconscious sensuality. "I suspect you don't envision your future career including being my family's property. That is what we have to offer you if you stay here, and only that."

 

"No, Spock. I can not leave. If I must be a slave to stay, then I will be a slave. I won't give up. I trust you to protect me." Kirk said, determination strong in his voice, swing around to confront Spock, finding himself glaring at Spock's chest, not his eyes, reminded again of the new disparity that existed in their sizes. Kirk looked up, Spock looked down at him, shaking his head.

 

"You won't be my slave if you stay, James Tiberius. My father will claim you to save me embarrassment of being too permissive with you. Do you truly wish to belong to my father? You told me once you feared him. Will you now seek to put your life in his hands? Will you want to feel his hands on your body as he takes his pleasure of you? Do you desire to fill his bed?" Spock asked him softly.

 

Kirk swallowed. Belong to Saer Sarek, ruler of Vulcan 3? The man with the burning eyes, the cruel but lush mouth, the man who had decided for an entire planet to revert back to the times before the reforms? To make his people warriors. To own slaves, to rule as an emperor, for that was what Sarek was, the Emperor of this planet. Did Kirk want to belong to such a man, and to...fill his bed? That was just too... strange to think about. Surely Sarek would not want that of him. Spock was shaking his head again.

 

"You will belong to him in all ways. Do not think you will be an exception. Think, Jim! It is not what you want. He will own your body, your heart your soul. He will enter your mind as often as he wills it. He will enter your body with his own. There will be no polite rules of etiquette to forbid him. You will be his slave, in his house, in his bed. My father takes men and women to his bed now as he wills it. You do not want to be one of them. Go home, Jim." Spock told Kirk gently but firmly. Kirk shook his head, frowning.

 

"I will go home only if you agree to accept another negotiator instead of me." Kirk said to his friend. "Otherwise, I have no choice. I am staying. And I will keep pleading the Federation's case. It is important to the stability of the Federation. An open Vulcan is vital."

 

"We will not accept an alien residing on this world, except one who is owned by a Vulcan Master. It is the law." Spock repeated patiently. He smoothed a hand down Kirk's shoulder to his elbow.

 

"Then I will stay. As a slave if you force me to be one." Kirk said, leaning into the caress. It felt good to have Spock touch him. he lifted his face, the sensuality of the move taking Spock's breath away. Kirk never noticed the gleam of interest in the eyes of his two guards, the undiluted lust.

 

Spock looked into his determined hazel eyes, saw the stubbornness. He shook his head with regret. "I will inform my father of your choice, James Tiberius. Once he accepts you, there is no turning back. You will never be free. Please reconsider." He saw Kirk's jaw tighten rebelliously. He thinks he will find a way, Spock realized. Then he sighed. Kirk always had rushed in where others feared to tread. This time he was making a grave error, but it was not possible for Spock to convince him of it. Spock led the way back to Sarek's study.


End file.
